


The Ghost of Our Memories

by Sassycaslovesdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, And a little bit scary, But he's pretty good at it, But it will get dark, Castiel is a bit of a loner, Gabriel raises Castiel, Ghost!Dean - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, It may get violent, M/M, Mystery, Supernatural - Freeform, Trauma, but he likes it, like the actual theme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7300024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassycaslovesdean/pseuds/Sassycaslovesdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorky highschool student Castiel Novak witnesses the murder of a mysterious green eyed boy, but no one believes him. Determined to prove himself, he tries to uncover answers, but he only ends up with a pile of questions and a few encounters with a mysterious green eyed ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of these characters. You know the drill.
> 
>  
> 
> So this is just something I came up with. It's an idea, and it's in progress.

“What makes you happy, Cas?” A middle aged woman leaned back in her seat as she questioned the boy sitting across from her. Her hair was up in a neat bun, and she was dressed in a gray skirt and blazer along with a white button down shirt. She looked very professional appearance wise, but she seemed very laid back as she inquired about her patient’s life. She was interested, of course, but she was very good at making her curiosity appear professional.

The boy across from her pondered the question. He looked to be in his teenage years, but the way he composed himself made him look so much smaller and younger. Standing, he was almost six feet tall, but sitting like that, he was small and seemed helpless. He was wearing a cream colored sweater vest, and he had on rather thick rimmed glasses. He looked scared and lost as he sat there, like a little child who had been separated from his or her parents. “I’m not sure…” He responded softly as he retreated further into himself. “I… Anything that makes me forget about it.” He muttered weakly.

The woman nodded. “It would help if you talked about it, Castiel. It happened almost two months ago, and you still have not told me exactly what you saw. Talking helps, Castiel.” The woman calmly informed him.

“I-I… Can’t. I don’t want to… No.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He muttered in defeat as his eyes fell shamefully to the floor.

“I understand. Perhaps on Tuesday then.” The woman scribbled something down onto her notepad. “Now tell me,” She changed the subject. She would approach the subject of what Castiel had witnessed every time, and everytime he would shy away from it. She had learned just to forget that she had even asked. “How is school? Are people treating you okay?”

Castiel shifted around in his seat uncomfortably. “It’s fine. I’d rather keep to myself, but the other kids let me be.” He responded timidly.

The woman leaned forward in her seat. “Perhaps some friends would help. Even just one would be nice. Everyone needs someone.” 

Castiel bit his lower lip as she spoke. He did not want friends, or maybe he was incapable of having them. People did not like him, and he had come to accept that. He liked being alone anyway; no one bothered him. He just got to be himself and not have to deal with the highschool drama. He was a loner and a nerd, but he liked it that way; it was just how he rolled. “Not me.” He answered simply.

The woman shook her head. “That’s not true. Perhaps you would find this more bearable if you had a friend.” 

“I don’t think so.” Castiel firmly responded, his blue eyes shimmering with certainty.

The woman only sighed when she caught sight of the clock. “It looks like our time here is up. I will see you on Tuesday, Castiel.”

Castiel stood up to leave the room, and exited with complete silence other than a very brief. “Thank you, Naomi.” That had become a ritual for him, seeing as he had come there twice a week for the past two months, ever since he witnessed the alleged murder that everyone said never happened.

Castiel was greeted by his anxious older brother as he emerged from the room.

“Hey, Cassie.” His older, but shorter brother greeted him as casually as he could manage. He was nervous about the whole thing. He was concerned for his little brother, but he did his best to mask that. He did not want Cas to see how he was faring. He needed to be strong for him. “How’d it go?”

Castiel gave him a small shrug in response. “Okay. I guess.” He replied simply. “You don’t need to ask me every time, Gabriel.” Castiel muttered.

“I just want to know how you’re doing. It’s important to me, okay? It should be to you too.” There were a few mild emotions mixed together, but Castiel could not discern what they were exactly.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Castiel murmured as he suddenly became interested in the floor. He could not meet Gabriel’s gaze. Gabriel was just worried about him, but he knew why. Everyone thought he was insane, and it had taken Gabriel a little bit of time to even believe Cas. They had not found a body. No one was reported missing. The house that Castiel had witnessed the murder at was abandoned and had been for years. They wanted to lock Castiel away, but Gabriel had refused. He could not let them take Cas away; he was the only family he had, so he was determined to prove that Castiel was not insane. He tried to convince himself of that no matter what the evidence said. Gabriel treated Castiel like a witness of a murder rather than a clinically insane man, and Castiel really appreciated that. At least Gabriel would stay with him.

“I know.” Gabriel muttered sounding entirely defeated. “I need to talk to Naomi. Can you wait out here?” Gabriel quietly asked his little brother, who nodded in response as he took a seat in the waiting room.

Gabriel entered the room with a forced smile on his face. Naomi thought Castiel was insane too. She wanted to medicate him, and Gabriel did not know what to think about that. He wanted to help Cas, but he feared that the medications may have too many unwanted side effects. 

“Hello, Gabriel.” Naomi also put on a smile for Gabriel that they both knew was perfectly fake. “I'm assuming you're here to discuss treatment for your brother.”

Gabriel nodded as he took a seat. “I've told you before that I'm not comfortable with meds. Cas is too… fragile, and you and I both know that those things have side effects that can really mess with a person, especially one as delicate as Cas.” 

“I am aware.” Naomi responded without batting an eyelash. “But he had a major hallucination, Gabriel. This is serious. Not only that, but he also refuses to give me any details on that hallucination. He avoids it because he's afraid of it. He's afraid of his own mind, and it is becoming a problem.”

Gabriel felt his left eye twitch in irritation. “He didn't hallucinate. He saw it. He's here for trauma, not hallucinations.” Gabriel reminded her with a building agitation.

“But the problem still exists, whether or not you want to acknowledge it. I believe Castiel made up this story about seeing the boy murdered because he wants attention. He has no friends or parents. I think he just wants to be noticed.” Naomi reported her findings.

Gabriel could feel himself tense up. “Don't say that. I give Cas plenty of attention. He doesn't need to make things up to get people to notice him, especially about seeing people dying! He likes being alone. That's always how he's been. He hates attention, and I know for a fact that this is the last thing he wanted, so don't pretend to know him!” Gabriel burst out, his composure completely forgotten. He couldn't take it when people talked poorly about his family. Castiel was the only family he had, and nobody was allowed to mess with that.

“It's an observation.” Naomi responded cooly. “As is this,” she leaned forth in her seat as she gave Gabriel a hard glare. “You have a temper because you've had to stand up for your brother on multiple occasions. You had to grow up to take care of him, seeing as you don't have a parent to be found, and you've become high strung because of it. It would also appear that you have procured a strange protectiveness for Castiel that is probably from raising him, which is now causing you to have an outburst in my office. I observe. It is my job, Mr.Novak, and you should learn not to question that and go back to your own job.”

Gabriel gritted his teeth. He hated how spot on she was, but he was not going to give her the satisfaction of telling her that she was right. “Protecting Cas is my job, and I’ve known him for much longer than you have, so I think that I know what's best for him. We came here for your help. We didn't want you to try and control us by showing medication down Castiel's throat. He's only sixteen.”

“I don't need your permission. It can be court ordered.” She responded very casually. Gabriel's eyes widened in shock as she continued. “I would, however, like to be friendly and take your opinion into account, even if you are an inexperienced young adult, and I am willing to give your method a short period of trial time, but after that, I must insist on medication.” 

Gabriel took in a deep, calming breath. “Alright, but how much time are we talking?”

“I would say another month. He's already had two months and only shows minimal signs of improvement. One more month ought to determine whether or not it is actually helping.” Naomi wrote something down onto her clipboard as she spoke, her eyes never meeting Gabriel's large golden hues.

Gabriel gulped. A month was not that long, but he knew better than to argue. She did have the power to court order medication onto Cas, and he did not want to push his luck with that. “Thank you.” He muttered as he got up to leave the room.

Naomi said nothing more, only giving him a slight nod of her head as he disappeared and reemerged in the waiting room.

Castiel looked up from the floor he had been staring at when Gabriel returned to the room.

“Come on, Cassie. Let's get out of here.” Gabriel muttered as he motioned with his hand for his little brother to follow him to the door, and Castiel did so, sticking by the only family that he had.

\---------------------

Gabriel tried to figure out how to talk to Cas without giving away too much of what occurred, so he was silent for the first few minutes of the drive home. “Cassie,” He began experimentally. He had something important to say but no words with which to say it. “I think you need to get out more.”

His statement was met with an agitated moan from his little brother, but Gabriel continued anyway. “I’m serious, Cas. I know you like being alone, but maybe you just haven’t found the right kind of person yet. You can’t be alone forever, Cassie. One day I’ll be gone or you’ll go off into the world on your own, and then you’ll be all alone if you keep on like this. People are not meant to be alone, no matter how much you think you are.” 

Castiel sighed. Gabriel seemed to be insistent on this subject, so he did not think there could be a way out of it. “What do you want me to do, Gabe? Pretend that I like being around people?” Castiel replied in a tone drenched with frustration, which was really more directed at himself than at Gabriel. Castiel never got along well with other children. He was never very social, but he could manage being polite. He preferred his own company, and everyone seemed to understand that based off of the vibe he gave off.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Gabriel replied, mildly irritated. “I just think it would be good if you got out a little bit more and gave people a chance.”

Castiel sighed. “I guess I could join the math team. I’m fairly skilled at math.” He grumbled as he folded his arms against his chest, ruffling up the front of his sweater vest. 

The smallest of appreciative smiles arose on Gabriel’s face. A smile was rare between the two Novak boys, but if one were to occur, it was usually Gabriel trying to brighten the situation, but this smile was one of genuine relief. “Thank you, Cassie.” He whispered as some strange glassy tint began to emerge in his eyes.

\----------------------------

Castiel was scared at first. Math was nothing he was afraid of. He could solve any problem in his sleep with his hands tied behind his back no matter how complex that problem was. It was the team he was afraid of. He was never a good team player. He was much more of an independent individual, so working with others was hard for him. At least it was not a sports team. Math team apparently involved much less working together, which Castiel highly appreciated, but there was still a forced sense of teamwork. 

Castiel stayed in a corner for most of the meeting, not wanting any unnecessary attention, but there was a small group of boys that seemed to notice him sitting alone, and they commenced whispering amongst each other until one of them came over.

The boy that came over was small and had light hair and large bright eyes and a friendly smile on his face. “Hi.” He greeted warmly. “My name's Samandriel. My friends and I thought it looked like you could use some company. Want to come sit with us?” 

He was very friendly and welcoming in the manner that he walked over and spoke, which made it quite hard for Castiel to say no. He had promised Gabriel that he would try and give people a chance, and this boy seemed nice enough. Castiel returned the boy's smile. “Yes. I would appreciate that. Thank you.” He responded in an unwavering voice.

“Come on over then…” The boy, Samandriel, motioned with his hand and implied with his words for Castiel to give his name.

“Castiel.” Cas told him mechanically.

“Alright. That's a cool name. I was named after an angel too, but most people just call me Alfie.” The boy responded as he turned back towards the table and motioned for Castiel to follow him.

“I understand that. Most people just call me Cas.” Castiel replied in understanding. Although, Castiel did not know many people, so most was kind of a stretch, but the few people he did encounter often shortened his name as soon as they heard it. “But why Alfie? It seems kind of non-sequitur if you ask me.” Castiel pondered with a small frown. 

The young boy he was following shrugged. “It kind of became a thing in Preschool when kids couldn't pronounce my name. One kid called got it really wrong and just called me Alfie, and that kind of stuck.” The boy stopped when they reached the table, and then he gave a knowing smile at his friends before he motioned for Cas to come and stand next to him. “This is Castiel.” He motioned to Castiel once he was by his side. “Castiel this is Kevin.” The boy motioned to a small kid, who was focused very intently on a rather large book and only gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. “And Balthazar, but we call him Balthy.” Samandriel motioned to the other boy at the table, who looked up at Castiel with this devilish grin.

“Heya, Cas. I was wondering when you were going to come over here already. I thought you were just going to mope in the corner the whole time.” The blonde boy, Balthazar, replied as he leaned forward to get a better look at Castiel.

“Hello.” Castiel greeted rather awkwardly with a tiny wave of his hand. “I… I don't know anyone here.” Castiel explained, when in reality he knew that he did not know much of anyone at his school. “I'm new to the team.” 

“So I've noticed.” Balthazar, the more outgoing of the boys responded with a sarcastic attitude. “Welcome to the nerd hole.” He grinned at his nickname for the place as he dramatically waved his arms to motion to the whole classroom around them that was filled with dorky, pimply teens. “I think you'll like it here.”

“Ignore him.” The boy with the book responded without looking up. “He's just upset because his parents made him join because his math grades are low.”

Balthazar snorted in amusement. “No need to steal my thunder, Kev. I don't mind it here though. I find the company quite enjoyable.”

Samandriel smiled. “This is a place for everyone and anyone. It's a good place. Trust me.” He assured Castiel, who was fidgeting around uncomfortably.

“I am sure it is.” Castiel assured them. “And I assure you that any insight is welcome.”

Balthazar reeled his head back as laughter overtook him. “Do you hear this kid? He sure has a funny way of talking.” He replied in between laughs.

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Again. Just ignore him.” He instructed the blue eyed boy.

Castiel looked even more uneasy now. “I don't understand what was so funny.” He bluntly replied.

“You are.” Balthazar responded as he straightened himself back up. “You are a strange guy.” He pointed a light finger at Castiel as he spoke, still jittery from the laughter.

Castiel tilted his head and squinted his eyes in confusion. Balthazar did not make any sense to him. If anyone was strange, Castiel was quite sure it would be Balthazar. 

The noise of Balthazar’s laughter did not go unheard. Most of the math team had heard it at that point, but a majority of them just ignored it. There was only one person who seemed relatively intrigued, which was a tall, muscular boy in the corner of the room, who looked like he was plotting the murder of everyone in the room.

Castiel gulped when he locked eyes with the stranger. The glare the boy gave him was menacing and dark, and it scared him. It reminded him of that time… He visibly shuddered as he began to back away. “I-I’m sorry. I… need to go.” He muttered barely audible.

“Are you okay?” Samandriel’s eyes widened in concern.

“I didn't mean it to be mean, Cas. I was just intrigued is all.” Balthazar responded in his way of an apology.

“I-It’s not that. I just… I need to go.” Castiel muttered, his eyes widened to nearly twice their original size.

Castiel backed away subconsciously, until he ran into a nearby object, which happened to be the boy who he had made eye contact with minutes before. Castiel spun around to face the boy, and he suddenly felt a whimper on the tip of his tongue as he looked at the large boy in front of him.

“Watch where you're going.” The boy growled.

“Why not let him be, Michael. I don't think he needs your issues strapped onto him.” Balthazar responded very casually.

Michael practically growled. “Shut up, Balthazar. I didn't ask you.”

“You did when you bothered the kid. He didn't do anything to you, so let him be.” Balthazar replied without any hesitation.

“I do what I want, and you have no control over that.” Michael snarled back at him as he glared down at Castiel, wondering what he would do to prove that he could do what he wanted to the innocent boy.

Castiel had to use all of his strength to suppress a shudder. It was just like that time…

“Are you even listening to me?” Michael snapped at Castiel as he forcefully grabbed his wrist. Apparently Michael had asked him a question when he was dozed out, and he did not respond. “I said. What did you see at that house? What kind of story did you make up with that crazy little brain of yours?”

Castiel said nothing. I'm just like that boy. I'm going to end up just like him. He could feel his breathing pick up, and he knew he was beginning to hyperventilate, but he could no longer talk because of it.

“Leave him alone!” Balthazar repeated himself as he jumped out of his seat and pushed Michael away from Cas. 

“Don't tell me what to do!” Michael shouted back as he lunged himself at Balthazar. 

Castiel stood still in a shocked silence. His mind was not working right. He could not process what just happened.

Kevin did not even look up from his book. “Typical. The two boys who were forced to come break out into a fight. Is it Thursday already?” He sarcastically commented.

“Cas, are you-” Samandriel began to ask, but he was cut off as Castiel burst his way through the crowd of people and out the door. He couldn't take being in there anymore. Castiel bolted towards the door, leaving Balthazar and Michael fighting on the math classroom floor and Samandriel looking on with genuine concern.

\-----------------------

It was real. I know it was. I saw it happen. It had to be real. Castiel kept telling himself these things as he walked down the street back towards his house. And you're not going to end up like that boy. You're safe. You're out of reach. He kept on telling himself these things like his life depended on them being true. He stopped abruptly. I can't go home yet. It's too early. Math team does not get out for another two hours, and then Gabriel will notice that something is wrong and insist that I tell him, and he'll probably make a big deal out of it and barge into the school demanding justice or whatever he would call it. I need to kill time. He thought for a moment about where he could possibly go, but for some unexplainable reason, he found that his feet already knew where he needed to go. 

His body had subconsciously landed him at the end of the street of the house. Only a few houses down was the house where he had witnessed one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, but his body had brought him back there. He knew why. He wanted to know. He wanted proof. He wanted to be able to prove that he was sane. Maybe he was not even proving it to others anymore; perhaps he really just wanted to convince himself of that much.

He took a deep breath. I need to know, and there's no other way. He began to cautiously creep down the street. The street would appear normal and quaint to most people, a little bit rundown, but quaint, but to Cas it was anything but quaint. The faded white picket fences seemed like cages to Castiel, and the banal flowers seemed like traps set to lure in the innocent. Even the sky seemed corrupted by the neighborhood. The whole heavenly canvas was painted a dark gray color that never seemed to give rain. Castiel did not like the place, but he knew he had to go. There was not another option.

He stopped when he reached his destination. It was an old house, and it was probably the most rundown of any of the houses on the street. It had gray chiseled paint, and the front porch appeared to be falling apart. The number 67 was falling off of the mailbox, and the whole pathway towards the door was infested with an uncared for garden with weeds sprouting more than any flowers. 

This was it. This was where he saw it. He had been right in the very spot he was standing in the front of the house, and he had seen it through the cracked window that was currently impossible to see through due to a lack of light.

Now that Castiel had a better look at the place, he could see why no one had lived in it for ages. It was a broken old house, and evidently, nobody cared enough to fix it. That did not change the fact that he had seen a boy being choked of all of his life force in that house. A man with those menacing eyes that were so similar to those of the boy he had run into earlier had killed that young boy, who could not have been any older than Castiel himself.

Castiel shook his head, trying to dispel the lurking memory. He wanted to leave. He did not want to remember that.

He turned immediately on his heel to leave the place, but he stopped when he remembered why he came in the first place. I need answers. He reminded himself as he slowly turned back towards the house.

He took one more look at the exterior of the house and then closed his eyes. Just don't think about it. Just focus on finding something useful that proves it happened, and then you can go, and then maybe they will find that boy's killer, and then you can finally rest in peace. He instructed himself as he took a few wary steps towards the house. He was going inside the very house that he saw a boy be murdered in. Maybe I am insane after all. He thought as he went inside the house, not allowing for second thoughts.

\---------------------

Castiel was instantly met with a strong chill as he entered the house, the door creaking shut behind him. It was too dark to see much of anything, the only light being from the cloud covered sky outside, leaving the entire house soaked in an eerie blue light. 

Castiel could see why people thought he was crazy now. The whole place was covered in dust. There was hardly any furniture to be found, and what could be located was all covered up in dingy gray sheets that had supposedly once been white. There did not seem to be any running electricity, seeing as the lights refused to go on when Castiel tried a few different light switches. The place was obviously abandoned and had been for some time. 

That was not the only issue that the cops had about Castiel's story. There was no one reported missing, and there was no body found. There were absolutely no traces of the crime that the police could find. The crime scene was clean evidence wise, and that was probably the real reason that Castiel was there. They had to have missed something. There has to be something here to prove that it happened. He scanned the large room he had walked into in the entrance. It was completely empty except for one old wooden chair that was draped in a cloth that was far too big for it. He scanned the room. This isn't the right room. It would be that way. His eyes went to his right over toward what appeared to be a living room kind of space. That's it. That's where they were.

He could just imagine it all over again - the dark figure with the soul piercing eyes that made him feel like a helpless piece of prey, the way he choked the younger man, that younger man who had such bright green eyes that were reaching out to him, pleading Cas for help. He shook his head. He wanted to save that boy, but he couldn't. He didn't. He was too afraid, and now, he wanted to make up for that. The boy deserved justice, and this was the only way to get it.

Castiel took slow steps into the living room space. There was nothing that particularly set it aside as a living room, but it appeared that way because of the couch that was covered close to the center of the room. Castiel bit his lip as he stood in front of the couch. This is the exact spot. He looked around to see if anything could help him. There was nothing very obvious. The boy had been choked, so he did not expect blood, but he was hoping for some kind of evidence - a piece of clothing, a picture that showed that someone actually lived in the house, anything would help, but there was nothing. Castiel bent down on his knees, adjusting his glasses so they would not fall off, and he then began to sweep his arm underneath the couch in a desperate search for something. 

He pulled his arm back out to find it covered with a mocking dust. Nothing. There's nothing here. He sighed. He did not know what he was expecting, but it was not that. He thought this would be the magical moment when he found proof of his sanity and he could leave this whole thing in his past, but that hope was now just as far gone as the boy he had seen being choked. 

Castiel looked around the room once more. There had to be something. He did not want to have to check the rest of the house. That one room gave him the creeps, but he knew that he would have to if he wanted to figure this out. He slowly got up, rising from the dust covered floor, but as he did so, the lights flickered. That's strange. He thought as he subconsciously curled in on himself a little bit. I thought that this house had no electricity…

It's probably just a glitch. He assured himself as he made his way to the staircase, each step creaking as he did so. Typical. This is like your average haunted house, and yet they still don't believe me about a murder that happened here. He rolled his eyes. People could be ridiculous at times, and quite frankly, Castiel had had just about enough of it. We'll see who's crazy when I find proof.

The upstairs was not any less eerie. He ran into yet another spot in the house that was inexplicably cold, sending shivers down his spine, but he shook it off and only clutched onto his own shoulders for warmth. At least his sweater vests came in handy now.

He continued his way down the strangely empty hallway, poking his way into a few empty rooms. None of those had anything useful in them.

Castiel had gone down a whole hallway, and none of the rooms had anything useful, and it was beginning to get on his nerves. He paused at the end of the hallway. There was one more room. It was the last one, but it did not appear to be special. It was the same faded brown frame door as the rest of the rooms had, but it was really Castiel's last hope.

Castiel mentally prayed that the room would contain something of use as he tried the doorknob. It was locked. Just my luck. Of course the room that probably has the evidence I need is locked. He let out a loud groan. This would only happen to me.

Wait a second… Castiel glared at the door suspiciously. If nobody lives here, why is there a locked door? None of the other doors were locked, so what's so special about this one? Who locked it anyway? Castiel could not remove his gaze from the door. That door had a secret, and he wanted to know what it was. Unfortunately enough, he did not know how to pick a lock. He heaved out a heavy frustrated breath. This was probably more frustrating than just having no evidence at all. There may be evidence, but there was a locked door separating him from it. 

He tried the door again, but that did not change the fact that the door was locked. He wanted to kick it down, but it was too thick for that, and Castiel did not possess the leg strength.

Feeling utterly frustrated and useless, Castiel turned to go back down the long hallway, strangely feeling like he was being watched.

He did not like it. The feeling was dark, and it frightened him, but that fear only intensified when he felt a cool breath right next to his ear. There was something whispered in his ear, but he could not make out what it was. He tensed up all at once. He was alone in that house. No one should be whispering to him. No one lived there. He took a very hesitant look backwards, but there was nothing there. He really was alone. I need to get out of here. He ran as fast as he could down the stairs and out the door, only giving the house one final look as he bolted down the street, and to Castiel's horror, he found that that glance would prove to be a very large mistake. He should have just kept running, but he didn't. Curiosity overtook him, so he looked back into the house once he was on the safety of the sidewalk. He looked back, and all he saw was a ghastly young man with sharp green eyes staring back at him through the window, as if begging him to come back.


	2. One Answer - Many Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shorter than the last one, but it's here. Sorry if it's not great.

Gabriel was seated on the green sofa when Castiel entered. He was in a white tank top and boxers while being curled up under blankets watching anything that he could find on the television. He had been preoccupying himself until Castiel came home, which was actually later than he had expected. 

Gabriel looked up as his little brother entered the room looking pale and disheveled, causing concern to edge its way onto Gabriel's features. “Heya, kiddo. Something the matter? It looks like you've seen a ghost.” The older man joked, trying to mask his growing concern behind comical relief.

Cas gulped. I really might have. He took in a deep breath. “It's nothing.” He grumbled. The last thing he wanted was Gabriel asking questions.

“No need to get grumpy about it.” Gabriel remarked back. “Who woke you up on the wrong side if the bed this morning?” Gabriel's tone was lightly teasing, but Castiel was not in the mood for Gabriel's positivity games.

“No one. I am just not fond of math team.” Castiel lied through his teeth. Sure, he did not like his experience with the math team - Although, Samandriel, Kevin, and even Balthazar seemed nice, but the events at the house were definitely more unsettling, but he knew that he couldn't tell Gabriel. What would Gabriel even think? He'd be mad about the math team, but he’d be furious about my visit to the house.

“Why?” Gabriel's joking tone left his voice immediately as he saw confliction appear in Castiel's face. “What happened?” He demanded with a bit of aggression. “What did they do, Cassie?”

“Nothing.” Castiel lied again. “It just wasn't for me is all. I guess math as a hobby just isn't my thing.” He tried his hardest to seem nonchalant as he shrugged in response.

Gabriel could not keep down a questioning eyebrow. Castiel was lying, and he knew it. What is he hiding? “You love math. You're a math nerd.” Gabriel reminded him. “So why don't you quit beating around the bush and avoiding the truth like it's a burning house and tell me already.” 

Castiel sighed. Gabriel always seemed to know when he was lying, and it was not because he was a bad liar. He actually was not all that bad of a liar; he was actually kind of skilled at it, but Gabriel could always tell when something was off. Gabriel had basically raised him, so he knew the forced look that overtook Castiel's eyes and the corners of his mouth every time he lied. How much do I tell him? Castiel bit his lower lip before he spoke. “I don't get along with the kids there, okay? Some of them are nice, but getting along with people in that kind of environment is just not for me. It's so forced and intrusive. Nobody has any privacy on teams, and you know that's something I value too much to lose. They weren't bad, but they weren't the best either.” He made that excuse up off of the top of his head.

Gabriel looked at his little brother long and hard before he spoke again. He narrowed his eyes at him, and his lips pursed and curved upwards in thought. He knew that there was something else behind it, but he could not be sure what. “I know, but I'd really like for you to get out more. Maybe you could just hang out with the nicer kids instead of joining the team. I'd be fine with that, as long as you are getting out and talking to people.” He paused as he leaned in towards Castiel to give him a small stern glare. “Is there anything else I should know about?” He asked very steadily and firmly.

“Not really.” Castiel replied, very naturally lying.

Gabriel did not remove his gaze from Cas, but his lips did drop into slight frown. “Don't lie to me, Cassie. It's not good for you.”

“That's the truth, Gabe.” Castiel lied back without batting an eyelash, keeping his gaze locked on Gabriel's to prove his point.

Gabriel sighed as he leaned back in his spot on the sofa. “Fine. Play it that way.” He muttered as he returned his attention to the television.

Castiel said nothing more as he went into his bedroom and sat down at his desk. He flipped open his laptop and checked his email, shuffling the shoes off his feet in the process so that he could sit with his legs crossed on his desk chair.

He only had a few emails, most of which were spam, so he was left at his desk blankly staring at his screen for a few moments. No matter what he did, he could not seem to get that house off his mind. Actually, he could not get those watching eyes off his mind.

Somebody had been there in that house with him, and he needed to find out who. Someone had watched him leave. He felt his hands trace over his keyboard. If anything can give me answers, it must be the internet.

He began to type away in search of anything about the house or its residents, but according to the records, the house had not been inhabited for nearly one hundred years and had only had one owner, who was a lonely old woman, so that ruled out any potential ghosts in the place. Who is he? Why does it seem like he doesn't exist? Castiel's head fell into his hands at his desk as he began to frustratedly ruffle his hair. This is not fair. It's like the world wants to drive me insane. 

\------------------------------

Castiel went to school the next day as normal. He kept to himself for most of the day, but it was not like he was rude. People just were not interested in him, and he was not interested in them. It seemed like a fair deal to him, but it didn't to Samandriel.

“Hey Castiel.” The bright eyed young boy beaned very warmly as he walked over to where Castiel was at his locker getting his materials for his next class. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

Castiel smiled softly at the boy. Samandriel was nice, and he had good intentions, so he intended to be nice back to him. It did not mean that he wanted him as a friend. Friends required a certain amount of trust and commitment that he just was not willing to give. “I'm fine. Thank you for asking. How are you?” He replied curtly.

Samandriel returned his smile. “I'm good, but I was just thinking that you could hang out with us - me, Kevin, and Balthazar. You don't have to do math team. I just mean after school sometime.”

Castiel thought over the offer for a minute. Those boys were nice enough. Balthazar had stood up for him, even if he just wanted to fight at the time. They seemed like they could be people that he could put up with until Gabriel dropped the subject of friends. “Sure. I would love to.” He replied with a pleased nod.

“Are you free today?” Samandriel asked excitedly. 

Castiel thought about it for a minute. After what had happened yesterday at the house, he was too tired to pretend that nothing happened in front of a group of teenage boys. “Not today. Gabriel needs me to help him clean the house. We have an aunt coming over.” That was a flat out lie. They did not have an aunt, and Gabriel did not need him around. Gabriel was working that night, so Cas would be home alone, but the lie sounded natural and believable.

“Oh okay.” The bright eyed boy seemed dejected momentarily. “Some other time then?”

Castiel nodded in response. “Some other time.” He agreed as the bell rang and they went their separate ways to their classes.

\------------------------

Being home alone did not bother Castiel. It was quiet when Gabriel was working and the only sound in the apartment was the frantic tapping of Castiel's keyboard as he researched or typed various essays. It was an appreciated silence that Castiel felt he could use more of. He worked best when he was left in a completely silent atmosphere, and although Gabriel was not the loudest of people, he could still be obnoxious at times, seeing as he liked football games and enjoyed company on a regular basis. Gabriel was much more outgoing than Castiel, and he generally enjoyed having people around him, but his amount of guests diminished as Castiel got older and his needs grew, specifically after he had witnessed the murder. Gabriel hardly had any company over now, and he rarely took any days off to just enjoy himself. He seemed to have matured immensely in the last few months - and even years - in order to accommodate his little brother.

Castiel appreciated it, of course, but he felt it was overbearing. He was sixteen. He was almost an adult. He could certainly take care of himself.

The silence in the room granted Castiel swift typing and writing skills, so he was finished with his homework in a little over two hours. As he finished typing his English essay, he found that the room was now as silent as a tomb, but the silence seemed anxious and forced. 

Castiel tapped his fingers against his mouse in an attempt to clear away his restless thoughts. His tabs from the day before were still open. The mystery of the house was getting to him, and he felt his eye twitch. He couldn't take the mocking suspense. He clicked open the tab again to stare at the basically useless information. I need answers. I can't just let this go until I know. Whatever I saw in there… I can handle it. He took in a deep breath as he pushed his chair away from his desk. I have no other choice. I've got to go back. Determination filled Castiel's gaze as he dispersed from his chair and departed the apartment to head towards the house he had deemed a house of unsolved mysteries.

\---------------------

Castiel could physically feel the blood that was flowing through his veins a little bit too fast for his comfort. He clenched his fists in an effort to calm himself, but it only seemed to message his heart to pump blood even faster. The message only seemed to hit once he arrived at the front door of the house, his heart feeling like it suddenly stopped beating causing his face to turn pale and his figure to appear small in his dark blue sweater vest. He was afraid of that house, and it was not only because of the murder that took place in it, but also because of what he feared currently lived in it. He subconsciously gave his glasses a shove with his pointer finger as he took in the rather tattered house. Just go in. You can’t just go on like nothing happened. You need answers. With a deep breath, he forced his way through the front door and into the house.

He was met with the same eerie chill as he had before. The house had no running electricity, meaning no fans or air conditioners, and it was still September; it was still fairly warm out - Castiel nearly always wore sweater vests despite the temperature, so why was the inside of the house colder than the outside? 

Castiel took another step into the house to find that the cool air vanished just as soon as it came, leaving him with a hot sticky air. Just another unsolved mystery that I probably can’t find an answer for. He mentally groaned.

But I came here for answers. He reminded himself as he turned towards the staircase and cautiously made his way up. Each time he stepped on a step, it seemed to whisper something to him, but he did his best to block it out, saying that it must just be his imagination. I’m not crazy; I’m just tired. It’s not there. They’re wrong. I’m not insane… Right? Who was he even asking at this point? If he had doubts about his sanity, how could he possibly convince someone else of it?

He sped his way down the hallway, only wanting to get out of that house as soon as possible, and headed for the door. He may or may not have done some research on how to pick a lock and found that it did not actually seem that difficult. He had taken a bobby pin from the lost and found and brought it with him to the house, so that he could have a fair shot at whatever was behind that door.

He kneeled beside the door with his bobby pin in hand, doing his best to ignore the creeping feeling that he was being watched. He positioned the bobby pin in the exact way that the website had told him - or close to exact because his hands had begun to tremble, and to his relief he found that the lock clicked open. He suppressed a howl of victory as he reached for the doorknob, only to find that it relocked as soon as he touched it. 

His eyes widened as he felt the door click shut. “No!” He shouted in disbelief. That… that can’t be… unless there’s someone on the other side… He took in a deep breath as he knocked on the door. “Is…” Castiel’s eyes were wide with fear and his voice shook with uncertainty and dread. “Is someone in there?” 

There was no response. Maybe it’s just an old lock. I’ll try again. He decided as he set himself up to hack his way into the room once more. However, this time was not like the last. This time resulted in a soft, almost threatening voice whispering into his ear. “You don’t go in there.”

It sounded almost violent - almost like a growl, and Castiel had to try his hardest not to faint right there. He felt the bobby pin fly out of his hand and into the slight crack underneath the door, disappearing into the locked room. There was no more denying it. He was definitely not alone. Either that, or he was truly insane, but he was not sure which prospect he found more terrifying. He felt himself tense up. Whatever was there did not seem friendly. It obviously did not like him meddling with his things. “I just… wanted to help…” Castiel said half to himself. He knew that was what had gotten him there in the first place. He wanted to help the dead boy and himself.

There was heavy silence for a moment before anything happened, and Castiel thought that perhaps nothing would happen and that he should just go home, but he was stopped in his tracks as something small emerged from the crack underneath the door. He stared down at it uncertainly for a moment, unsure if it was some kind of trap. It’s all I’ve got. He bent down to pick up the object to find that it was a picture - a relatively old picture at that. It depicted a man, a woman, and a young child, who looked about the age of three. They seemed like the stereotypical happy family. They were all smiling; the man and the woman had the child between them, their heads both resting on top of his. The child had a wide grin on his face as he looked up at the camera. They were not bad looking people either. The woman had lovely blonde hair, and the man was tall and considerably handsome with smooth dark hair, but the son in the center was what caught Castiel’s eye. Sure, he was a cute kid, but it was his eyes that were distinct. He would recognize those eyes anywhere. Those were his eyes. Those were the eyes that had begged him for help. Those were the eyes that he had run away from for two months. Those were the eyes that plagued his dreams, keeping him awake at night. Those were the eyes that he could never forget. They were the eyes of the murder victim, and there was not a doubt about it. 

“Flip it over.” The demand was whispered into his ear softly as if it were a lullaby.

Castiel did as he was instructed to find that there were names written on the back. It said: December 25, 2002. John, Mary, and Dean Winchester. Dean’s third Christmas.  
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Castiel asked, his eyes widening as his voice began to surge with certainty. “You’re Dean? You’re the boy I saw?” His questions began to pick up in pace. “Who killed you? Why? Why doesn’t anyone know about you? Where’s your body?” 

There was no answer. He could not even feel the chill that he had previously felt. He left. “Come on! You can’t just leave! You’ve got to answer me!” He shouted indignantly.

There was no response to that either, and Castiel turned away. “Fine.” He grumbled. “I thought you wanted my help, but apparently you’ve got it covered.” He shot a low sarcastic blow towards whatever it was that occupied the house. He turned and went down the stairs with the photograph still in hand as he headed for the front door.

He left the house without another word, but he could feel eyes on him the entire time, so he cast a glance backwards to find the same green eyed boy staring back at him in the doorway. He said nothing, but his gaze said it all. He needed help. There was something going on, and Castiel had no clue as to of what, but he intended to figure it out. This was not something that he could really quit.

He waited in the front of the house for some kind of response from the ghastly boy, but the boy only stared at him with a hard gaze. Castiel was almost ready to leave when the boy finally spoke. “Learn some manners and don’t ask so many questions.” He muttered as the door flew shut, sending a chilly wind Castiel’s way.

Castiel stood there dumbfounded. Did that… ghost… just give me attitude? Is that even a ghost? What is all of this? He groaned rather loudly as he turned to leave the place. I hardly have any new answers. I only have new questions. Maybe these names can help me out a bit… Castiel looked down at the family portrait as he walked home, hoping that it could finally resolve a few of his questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too fond of this chapter. It's not what I wanted it to be, but thanks for reading it anyway.


	3. A Sassy Ghost

Castiel sat at his desk for hours looking into the lives of John, Mary, and most importantly, Dean Winchester, but he did not come up with too much that he could deem useful. He was smart enough to hack into private records, but doing so only gave him some minor background information on the parents in the photo, and little to nothing on the boy.

The mother was dead. That much was for certain. She had died in a house fire along with her younger son, Samuel, who was an infant at the time. After that, there was no known record of Dean or John Winchester, and it was assumed that they were either dead, or they had lived under false names.

Castiel let out a heavy, frustrated breath. It was the boy that he wanted to know about, but there appeared to be next to nothing on him, only his birth certificate that showed that he would be about a year older than Castiel himself, which was not terribly insightful. 

He strolled through records to try and find any sightings of him, and there were a few, but they were never definite; the witness would say that the child looked vaguely like Dean, but they would never be able to say for certain that it was. 

It was safe to assume that most people did not care where Dean came from or who he was because of the lack of reports. After a month, it seemed that nobody cared and everybody forgot about who he was, which made it perfectly possible for Dean to have been living in that house without anyone noticing. He could pass off as just another homeless orphan, but that only brought up another question - what had happened to Dean's father?

He's going to have to answer that… assuming that's who that ghost is… Whatever it is… it knows something, and it evidently wants something from me. The only way is to go back and demand answers. 

Castiel sighed as he turned his gaze towards the clock above his desk. It was already midnight. It was too late to go to the house, and he was starting to feel fatigue creep its way onto his eyelids. I'll deal with it tomorrow. He groggily thought as he got up from his desk to relocate to his bed, his mind swirling with images of piercing green eyes as he drifted off into sleep.

\-----------------

 

School the next day seemed to drag on as Castiel anticipated his meeting with the strange creature that inhabited the house he had so often referred to as the 'murder house'. He anxiously tapped his fingers on his desk for the majority of his classes, and he hardly payed attention, which was quite uncommon for him, seeing as he found almost everything the teachers said to be fascinating. He could not get his mind off the green eyed boy...Dean… his name is Dean… At least I think that's him… Who else would it be?

He absentmindedly found himself writing Dean's name onto his paper, almost as if he were testing it out. Dean. I like it… something about it just suits him...

“Novak.” The teacher, Ms. Mills, scolded as she came over to him with her arms crossed. “I didn't think I'd have to tell you of all people to quit daydreaming, but get your head out of the clouds.” 

Castiel looked up from his paper that he had been staring at in a daze. “Y-yes, ma’am. I'm sorry.” He blurted out in realization.

Ms. Mills gave him a suspicious quirk of her brow. “Get some sleep tonight, Novak. I don't need you sleeping on me.” Her tone was firm and demanding, but there was a hint of concern behind it that she seemed to be trying to mask for his benefit.

He nodded in response as he turned his attention back towards the board, and Ms. Mills went back to teaching. He tried his hardest to focus, but every so often he found his mind drifting back to the mysterious house and the even more ambiguous boy that resided in it.

\--------------------

“Are you okay, Cas? You looked kind of spooked back there.” Samandriel asked as soon as the bell rang.

“I'm fine. I'm just tired is all. Homework has been overbearing lately.” Castiel found the lie quite naturally as he walked alongside the good-natured honest boy.

“You should get some sleep then. You can come do homework after school with me and Kevin. Balthazar will be there too, but he mostly goofs off. Even he manages to get some things done though. Some people work better with others around.” Samandriel replied.

Castiel nodded. He could not say no to the boy twice in a row. It seemed rude. But some of us do not work better with others. He mentally corrected Samandriel, but he bit his tongue. He knew that he could go to the house as soon as he left the boys. It was almost an incentive. The sooner he got his homework done, the sooner he could get answers. “Alright. Where do you meet?” 

Samandriel beamed a wide smile at him in gracious response. “Out front, right under the big oak tree.”

“I'll be there after school.” Castiel agreed as he gave Samandriel another small nod before ducking into his next classroom.

“See you there!” Samandriel called as Castiel disappeared into the History classroom.

\----------------- 

 

The group remained mostly quiet as they studied, which Castiel could appreciate greatly. It was only Balthazar who insisted upon talking every now and again because he was bored of schoolwork - if one could even call it schoolwork. He mostly played around with his phone and chatted about anything that came to mind, complaining that the others in the group were boring.

“You're all too focused. You've got to let loose sometimes.” Balthazar complained from his spot where he was lying on the grass with his phone on stomach as he propped his head up with his hands.

“Some of us need good grades, Balthazar.” Kevin absently responded, his hands still typing away at his keyboard.

“But that's not all that matters! What about life?” Balthazar protested.

“Until I graduate, school is my life.” Kevin replied, seeming almost upset about that statement.

“It shouldn't be!” Balthazar retorted incredulously. 

Samandriel sighed as he looked up from the book he was reading. “School matters right now. The sooner we do our homework, the sooner we can go live our lives.” He gently reminded his friend.

Balthazar snorted. “Right. Homework.” He glanced over towards his backpack as if contemplating actually getting something done, but he decided against it as his eyes landed on Castiel, who was intently taking Biology notes.

“Hey, Cas.” Balthazar distracted himself from his homework by talking to the diligently working boy, who responded by giving him an acknowledging grunt. “I couldn't help but notice your mishap in class today.” He whispered mischievously.

Castiel looked up from his onerous Biology book. “W-what mishap?” He stammered nervously, hoping that Balthazar did not know too much.

“Oh don't play dumb.” Balthazar waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “You were so smitten with some kid named Dean that you blanked out of class.”

Castiel could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. “It's… nothing.” He could not tell Balthazar anything, and the fact that he knew Dean's name only made matters worse.

“Nothing?” Balthazar snorted. “Sure. You're going to have to define nothing for me.” He replied sarcastically.

Kevin rolled his eyes. “It wouldn't be the first time someone's had to define some for you.” He mumbled, barely looking up from his screen.

“Is something wrong, Cas?” Samandriel looked up from his book with large concerned eyes.

“No.” Castiel insisted. “I'm fine.” But he did not have a lie for that situation. He could not bring himself to lie about Dean, but he could not bring himself to tell the truth either.

“Right. He's just a love-sick puppy for that weird Dean boy. I don't see why you chose him-” Balthazar began to rant, but he was cut off by Castiel.

“You met Dean?” He asked with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Of course.” Balthazar looked at him like he had just said his mother was a hedgehog. “He was a grade above you. He showed up out of nowhere, and then he disappeared again. Didn't you meet him…?”

“He… disappeared…” That seemed to fit in with the theory that Dean went from town to town and never stayed long. He was just a drifter. “I see.” He nodded in understanding. “I… have to go. I will see you again later.” Castiel stood up abruptly to leave. He needed to talk to Dean, or the ghost, or whatever it was. He needed confirmation.

“Fine. Don't tell me.” Balthazar grumbled as Castiel grabbed his bag and jogged away with some kind of newfound motivation.

\----------------------

Castiel ran into the house without a second thought. He just needed answers. How could he not have known that Dean went to his school, even if it was only for a month? How could he have never met Dean before? 

The house was still lit up with the dim blue light as Castiel looked around. There was a smidge of sunlight sneaking through the dusty white curtains in the living room, but it did nothing to illuminate the generally dark household.

“Dean!” Castiel called out with a forced strength. For all he knew, whatever lurked in that house was dangerous and not to be meddled with. It may very well not have been the boy he thought it was, but he was willing to take his chances. It beat trying to live his life pretending that he never saw a murder in that house. “Dean!” He called again when he got no answer.

This time there was a distinct chill that entered the room as the ghostly figure appeared in front of Castiel in a flash.

The boy had no color in his features, but he was nearly certainly the boy from the photograph. One look into his eyes, and Castiel knew that. They seemed to be lacking motivation and drive now that they were attached to the embodiment of a spirit, but that could be attributed to the fact that they were no longer alive. The strange thing about them was their emptiness. It looked like they had seen the world's end, but they were only the eyes of a boy only a year older than Castiel himself, so it did bring about more questions.

“You called?” The ghost, who seemed to respond to Dean, spoke with an almost casual tone that darted towards playful.

“I…” Castiel took a moment to process the ghost's attitude. He had expected the ghost to be dark and cruel, or at least creepy, but this ghost was behaving as if it were a normal person, and it threw him for a loop. “I want answers.” Castiel insisted with as much firmness as he could manage.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Answers? To what, may I ask?”

“You! I saw you-” Castiel motioned to Dean's appearance, trying to indicate that he saw Dean die and become what he was. “You were killed, and now you gave me some picture. What do you want from me?”

A very small frown tugged at the corner of the ghost's lips. “Where are your manners? We haven't even been introduced yet.” He replied sarcastically, but he seemed to be trying to force the conversation in a different direction.

Castiel looked at him disbelief. He had so many questions. All he wanted was answers, and this ghost was being sarcastic of all things. “I know who you are! You already showed me.” Castiel reminded him, mildly irritated.

“But I don't know who you are.” Dean pointed out with a mischievous raise of his eyebrows.

Castiel shook his head, still not quite comprehending what was going on. “Why do you even need to know?” He groaned.

“It's only polite. A name would be nice, so I don't have to call you ugly sweater vest boy.” Dean casually remarked as he looked down at Castiel's green sweater vest with a feigned look of disgust.

Castiel folded his arms defensively. “I like my sweater vests, thank you very much.” What am I doing? Am I really defending my fashion choices to a ghost? I came here for answers. I suppose I have to give some to get some. “Castiel.” He decided. “My name is Castiel Novak.” 

“Castiel, huh?” Dean tried the name out experimentally. “Weird name, but I guess it's for a weird kid.” He teased as his eyes began to glimmer with mischief.

“I'm not that weird. At least I'm not a sarcastic ghost.” Castiel retorted.

“Touche.” Dean replied with a small grin. “What grade are you in, Cas?” 

Castiel was not fond of the way that Dean shortened his name without asking. He generally liked people to ask permission first, but he kind of liked the way his nickname sounded in Dean's voice. It sounded entirely new, as if he were hearing it for the first time. “I'm a Junior. I'm assuming you were a Senior? How long were you at my school?”

Dean nodded very slowly. “I was at your school for about a month. It wasn't too bad.” He shrugged as he walked about the room aimlessly. “Food's bad, but the teachers aren't as bad as some I've seen.”

Castiel scrunched up his face as realization began to dawn on him. He's avoiding something… “How many schools have you been to exactly?” He cautiously pried.

Dean hesitated momentarily. “More than I've cared to count, but that was just how it rolled. Who do you live with?” He dragged the topic away from himself yet again.

Castiel's eyes began to narrow as he slowly picked up on Dean's pattern. He really does not want to talk about himself. “My brother.” He answered skeptically. “What about you?” There was a bit of force behind his words, but he felt it necessary if he were going to get anything out of the ghastly figure in front of him. 

 

“I'm alone.” Dean replied as he rolled his eyes. “Do you see anyone else around here?” He replied sarcastically.

“When you were alive.” Castiel rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

Dean stiffened. “That was before. It doesn't matter now. Why are you here anyway?” He pulled the topic away from him again.

“Because you were murdered, and I thought you wanted my help, but apparently you just want to play games and mess with me, so I think I'll be on my way.” Castiel retorted as he turned towards the door and began to storm out.

“Wait.” Dean whispered as he reappeared in front of the door. “I know, and I do want help, okay? I just… don't want to talk about it right now.” His face was soft and genuine as he spoke, showing that his words were honest.

“When will you want to talk about it? Because I do have a life, and it is not ruled by a ghost who likes to play mind games.” Castiel folded his arms to give Dean a small glare.

Dean sighed. “Yeah. I was murdered, okay?” He bit his lower lip as he focused on nothing in particular. “I want your help since you were the one to see it.”

“What do you need my help with?” Castiel sighed as he let his irritation begin to melt away.

“I want to find the man who killed me, and I need your help arresting him.” Dean replied with the most seriousness as he had had the entire conversation.

“I-I am only a teenager! What makes you think I can hunt down a criminal?!” Castiel retorted incredulously.

“I just need your help in finding out who killed me and then telling the police. That's it. You won't be doing any criminal chasing.” Dean assured him in a calm tone.

Castiel thought it over for a minute. He had always loved murder mysteries. Everyone did think that the murder was not real. Everyone thought he was insane. If he could find Dean's killer and prove that Dean was really murdered in that house, he would be free of the whole event. Determination spread across his facial features, his eyebrows knitting together and his eyes shining with a new drive as his mouth formed into a firm line. “Alright. Let's get started.”


	4. A face for the Murderer

“How can you not know who killed you?!” Castiel asked incredulously.

The ghost shrugged in response. “I didn't know the guy.” He responded nonchalantly.

Castiel ran his hands through his hair roughly in frustration. “Then how am I supposed to help you find him?” He whispered as if he were cursing.

Dean looked at him as if he were the stupidest person he had ever seen. “I know what he looks like. You've just got to go find him.” 

Castiel looked up as his hands dropped to his side, hope finding its way into his eyes. “You mean you could draw it or something like that?” 

Dean's face distorted in slight distaste. “Do I look like an artist to you? No. You can draw it. You're the one who screams outcast.” He retorted.

Castiel folded his arms defensively. “I am not an outcast.” He lied. “I don't know where you got the idea.”

“I don't know… Maybe it's the fact that you're… hmmm… hanging out with a ghost?” Dean grinned at his own teasing. “Most normal kids don't do that. Plus, your sweater vests and Harry Potter glasses kind of scream library dweller.”

Castiel pursed his lips in agitation. He did not come to the house to be roasted by a ghost. He came for answers, but the ghost seemed almost unwilling to give them. “I didn't ask to hang out with you. Maybe I do like reading, but that doesn't mean I like being here.” Castiel snapped back, and he had to feel proud of himself for that one. He was not always the best with comebacks.

“Please.” Dean pretended to pout sarcastically. “You're hurting my feelings.” 

Castiel only rolled his eyes in response. This was not how he had imagined this meeting going.

“Jeesh. Tough crowd.” Dean grumbled. “No need to get defensive. All I'm saying is that you aren't exactly the average kid.” 

Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off as Dean continued. “I didn't say that was a bad thing. Normal’s no fun at all.” He replied slyly.

Castiel took in a deep breath. He knew he was anything but normal, but he did not really want to give Dean the satisfaction of proving him right. “I can draw.” He diverted the topic. “Just describe the man you saw.” 

Dean looked almost confused for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to ask something, but he must have thought better of it because he shut it again. “Okay,” He decided, his voice slightly unsteady. “He was pretty tall….”

Castiel listened intently as Dean rambled off whatever details he could remember, a few of them he was uncertain on and continuously changed his mind, but for the most part, Castiel was able to tell what he meant, and by the end of it, they had a pretty good sketch.

Strangely enough, the man did not seem all that familiar to Castiel. Cas attributed that to the fact that he had only caught a glimpse of the man from a distance, but he could remember the eyes. They were definitely the right eyes. He could tell, but something else just seemed off. Perhaps Dean had forgotten a detail.

“This is him?” Castiel asked with a tone drenched in uncertainty.

Dean let out a small chuckle. “No. It's just some random guy that I made you draw for the heck of it.” He replied with a sarcastic eye roll.

“That wouldn't surprise me at this point.” Castiel muttered under his breath.

“You know I can hear you, right? Ghosts have better hearing than humans.” Dean explained, his voice sounding slightly amused.

“What else is different?” Castiel asked curiously.

“What isn't different?” Dean replied with the faintest of smiles. “I'm a ghost, Cas. I'm alone in this house, and no one even knows it. I'm not even me anymore. What do you think's different?” He snorted sarcastically.

Castiel looked at the boy with large sympathetic eyes. “Things change. I get that. Change can be hard, and loneliness can be harder, but no one's ever all alone, not really.” He spoke from what sounded like experience as he turned his gaze towards the ground.

A soft smile managed to creep it's way onto Dean's face. They were silent for a moment, neither daring to speak, but that silence was broken by the vibrating of Castiel's phone.

Startled, Castiel fumbled his hands into his pocket to reach his phone. It was a text from Gabriel, reading: Where are you?

It was simple, but Gabriel did not text him unless he was worried or upset, and in this case he was probably both. 

“I need to go. I'll look into the guy and come back later.” Castiel blabbered as he stood up to leave.

“Right. I'll see you around then.” Dean responded, seeming a little bit dazed.

“Bye!” Castiel called as he ran out the door, drawing in hand, leaving Dean to wonder what had just happened.

\---------------

Castiel arrived home to find Gabriel in the kitchen preparing dinner. Dinner? Oh no. What time is it? He lifted his gaze up to the clock above the door as he walked into the apartment. 6:00. He mentally cursed himself for being home so late. He had told Gabriel he would be home around four.

“Yeah. You have some explaining to do.” Gabriel calmly ordered without looking up to see his little brother, his back still turned to him as he stirred the pasta. “I got here ten minutes ago to find that you weren't here. I should hope you have a good explanation.”

Castiel slid the drawing into his jacket discretely, not wanting Gabriel to see or inquire about it. “I needed some fresh air. I went for a walk to clear my head.” He nervously lied, trying to keep his voice level because sometimes it would go down a notch when he lied on the spot.

Gabriel did not seem to buy into the explanation in the slightest. “That's a long walk. What have you been keeping in your head?” He tried to tease an answer out of Cas, a method which worked on some occasions.

“Too much. You wouldn't even believe it.” Castiel muttered in response as he moved into the room.

Gabriel slightly frowned as he stopped stirring the spaghetti momentarily. That was not a lie. He could tell that much, but that actually worried him more than Cas being off doing heaven knows what. “You know that's what therapy is for, kiddo.” He responded, trying and failing to keep the concern out of his tone.

“Right.” Castiel half-heartedly agreed. Therapy did not help him with his trauma much, and there was certainly no way it could help him to deal with his current situation with the ghost. “I'll be in my room… doing homework.” He lied as he vanished into his room, only hearing Gabriel calling, “I'll call you when dinner's done!” as he left.

The sound of the kitchen was far off as Castiel immersed himself in his room, surrounded only by piles of books and stacks of paper, focusing on the laptop on his desk in his small, cramped room that lacked natural light. 

He pulled out the drawing he had made while at the murder house, and he began to study it very closely. Something was off. He was missing something; he just knew it. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment other than try and scour the internet for a name for the man.

He typed relentlessly into the computer, searching through pictures and profiles for hours straight trying to come up with a match. His search seemed to prove fruitless, until he came across a profile of a John Doe who was wanted for various crimes. Castiel quickly printed off the image. It looked almost exactly like the drawing, but the weird thing was, Castiel did not recognize the man. 

That can't be right. I know I only saw him from a distance, and the only thing I really saw was his eyes, but still… No matter how much he tried, he could not feel excited about his discovery. He simply could not shake his doubt. Either way, he strangely felt excited to return to the house with news. A part of his mind told him he just wanted closure, but another told him he actually wanted to go back simply to be there again. That was a messed up thought. He knew that he did not enjoy the company of people, but enjoying the company of a ghost was beyond weird… No. Anyone else would want to go back to. 

\---------------------

“I found him.” Castiel told the ghost, who had casually leaned himself against the dusty sofa. 

The ghost quirked an almost amused eyebrow before he leaned in to look at the profile Cas had brought. He took one look at it and a small grin appeared on his face, which made Cas believe that he had done it, which obscurely made some part of him sad to leave the house and the boy inside behind, but those thoughts soon vanished because Dean's smile was replaced by a slight frown. It looked almost guilty for a brief second, but Dean turned away before Cas could see any more. “That's not him.” Dean grunted simply.

One part of Castiel's brain was frustrated that he had reached another dead end, but another was… happy? No, relieved. That's weird… Well, I guess I had my suspicions, and they were proven right, so that's all that is, right? That did not really convince him, so he decided to try and play it off as frustrated. “What do you mean? That's how you described him!” Castiel protested animatedly.

“Are you telling me that I would not know my own killer when I see him?” Dean hissed, before realizing his tone was far too aggressive. “It's not him, plain and simple as that.” He shrugged much more calmly.

“I'm only trying to help. There's a detail missing, and I know it, so why don't you stop keeping secrets and tell me!?” Castiel blew his fuse.

“You don't need to know every detail of my life. That's not going to help.” Dean retorted. “How did you get this profile?” He asked with an unmoved tone.

“Police records. I hacked in.” Castiel shrugged it off as if he did it on a regular basis.

“You must be pretty smart then. What do you want to do when you graduate?” Dean asked, and Castiel could have sworn that a ghost seemed genuinely interested in his future.

“I wouldn't say that.” Castiel modestly mumbled, pushing his glasses up in embarrassment. “More like moderately intelligent, but I would like to work my way into college.”

“College, huh?” Dean tested out the word as if he had never heard it before. “Where to?”

“Middlebury, Tufts, Stanford… any good school I can get into and afford.” Castiel responded with a bit of enthusiasm.

Dean nodded in response, not even knowing where those schools were, but willing to hear about Castiel's dream. “What do you want to study?”

Castiel pondered the question for a minute. He had a general idea, but the exact degree he wanted was still up in the air. “I would like to become a doctor of sorts, the specialization I have not yet decided, but I definitely want to go into medicine.”

“Wow. See, that takes brains, so don't even deny having them. What about your family? You think they might miss you?” Dean seemed to have some distant nostalgic glint in his eyes as he spoke, his voice equally spacey.

“Gabriel is the only family I have, and he has been since my parents died in a car crash three years ago. He's been taking care of me since, and I'd like to repay the favor.” Castiel responded with a sincere determination.

“That's a goal.” Dean chuckled as he pointed a firm finger at the blue eyed boy. “Three years ago? How old’s your brother?” Dean asked with a genuine curiosity.

“21. He just turned 18 before the accident. If he hadn't, then they could have taken me from him and sent us to an orphanage. He insisted on taking care of me, but he was never the same fun loving guy he used to be. He didn't even talk to a lot of his friends any more. He became my parent, and that made him get rid of all the social aspects of his life. He's given a lot for me, and I owe him a great deal.” Castiel sincerely ranted before a heavy silence fell on the room. “What about you? Surely you had dreams?” Castiel asked with wide, curious eyes.

Dean shrugged of the question. “My dream was to live to see another day. Well, that dream died.” He grinned like an idiot at his own joke.

Castiel only narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I was serious. Of course you wanted more than that. Everybody does.”

“Yeah, well, some of us are just more realistic than others.” Dean responded cryptically.

“What about your family? Surely you wanted to be with them?” Castiel asked in a softer tone.

Dean's gaze locked onto Castiel's in what Cas had assumed would be fury, but it was not. It was sincerity and seriousness. “I had no family.” He muttered darkly.

“I know about your mother and your brother, but I know how that feels. My parents died too, remember?” Castiel gently coaxed.

“What are they like?” Dean asked in a voice so filled with wonder, hurt, and curiosity that it was almost heartbreaking. “Parents.” He clarified.

Castiel bit his lower lip in thought. “Well, they were kind. My dad was not around too much, but he always brought back things for me. My mom was gentle, and she loved my family. She would make a pie for me and Gabriel every other week, and she would always tell me she loved me every morning. My dad tried to be there, but it didn't always work out. He took us out whenever he got the chance. He and my mom were going on a date to make up for lost time when they were killed.”

“I get that. One minute they're there, and the next… gone.” Dean whispered softly.

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. The fire had happened when Dean was four. “You remember your mother? You were only four during that fire.” 

“I don't remember much of her. I remember my dad though.” Dean replied, not even realizing what he was saying.

Castiel's eyes widened. “Your dad lived with you?! What happened to him?!” That was the moment it clicked. John had not died in the fire. He lived with Dean. That was why Dean remembered him. That's why he was not recorded dead, but he clearly was not there now.

“He left me, okay?!” Dean snapped. “You know what, I don't need this. This isn't what you're here for, Cas” 

“But it is!” Castiel replied incredulously. “Dean, I need to know about your life if you want my help!”

“Then maybe I don't want it!” Dean shouted back, and before Cas could even explain himself, he was shut out of the house with only his thoughts and the John Doe profile.

Castiel looked sadly towards the house. I want to help you, Dean. That's all I want. I… don't know why, but I'm going to do it. With that, Castiel strode down the street with his mission in mind: to find Dean Winchester's killer.


	5. Feelings

Castiel spent that night searching through records for another person matching the description Dean had given him, but there was none that he could find. None of them even came relatively close other than the one he had found earlier that day. He groaned as his head fell into his hands, which began coursing their way through his short, dark hair. None of it makes sense. How can there be no matches? Dean must have left out a detail, and it's my job to figure out what it is. 

“Cassie?” Gabriel knocked on the door quietly. “It's getting late. You should turn off the screens and get to bed.” Gabriel instructed from the other side of the door.

“I will do that now.” Castiel agreed as he cast one last glance towards the laptop that was greatly disappointing him. He shut it hesitantly as he edged himself out of his seat and towards his bed. He needed sleep, and he knew he could not get that while blankly staring at a screen.

“All right.” Gabriel paused for a moment, the soft sound of his teeth meeting his lower lip and then retracting indicating that he had something else to say but was wary of saying it. “Goodnight, Cassie.” His voice dropped down to a soft whisper as he strode off in the direction of his own room.

Castiel could see no reason to defy his brother by staying up on the computer. The search was futile, and no amount of staring would change that. 

He forced himself onto his bed, laying there with his gaze focused vaguely on the roof with a water stain from the leaky roof that was about the size of a bowling ball. His mind, however, was in an entirely different place.

Who killed Dean? What happened to his father? When did he leave him? What was in that room I tried to get into? Why won't Dean talk about his past? What is he hiding?

The last question was the most troubling of all. How could he help Dean if Dean refused to be honest with him? He was stuck. The only way to help Dean was for Dean to let him in, so he decided that was what he must do.

 

\------------------

“What are you thinking about that is so fascinating?” Kevin leaned towards Castiel's desk, several large books in hand.

“W-what?” Castiel sputtered in response, his face emerging from its resting spot in his propped up arm.

“He's obviously dreaming of that Dean boy.” Balthazar casually remarked.

“I was… just thinking.” Castiel weakly defended himself.

“About what?” Kevin asked, mildly curious.

Castiel gave the question a bit of thought. “Just… life, I guess.” He shrugged it off, hoping to play it off as normal and drop the subject.

Samandriel cast him a worried glance. “Is everything okay?” He softly asked.

“As good as it gets, I guess.” Cas muttered, giving his glasses a small shove before looking around to realize that the classroom was empty apart from him and his 'friends’. “Where did everyone go?” He asked with confusion finding its way onto his face, causing his eyebrows to furrow together and his head to dip to the left ever so slightly.

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “School is out, feather brain.” He made no other comment as he headed for the door, clearly not wanting to be at the school any longer than he had to be.

“The bell did ring.” Kevin affirmed as he shifted his arms around his heavy load of books.

Samandriel wordlessly took a few of Kevin's books to lighten his load. “He's right. You didn't notice?” He focused his attention on Castiel, who looked dumbfounded by the news.

“I guess I was… somewhere else.” Castiel sheepishly admitted. With Dean. His subconscious provided, but he shook the thought, trying to refocus his attention on the boys in front of him.   
“That's okay. You should go home and get some rest though.” Samandriel responded with a bright smile, his eyes beginning to light up with genuine kindness.

“I will. Thank you.” Castiel muttered as he began to shift his way out of his desk and gathered his various school items.

“See you later.” Samandriel called as he and Kevin went out the door and out of sight.

“See you…” Castiel muttered to the empty room. He was left alone with just his thoughts, which could almost be deemed dangerous. His thoughts nearly always ended up fixating on the ghost boy and the mystery surrounding him. It could become an obsession, but maybe that was just going to happen no matter what he did. Maybe Dean would be the end of him as he once knew himself.

\--------------------

“It's not him.” Castiel reminded Dean in a firm voice as soon as he entered the house, the ghost boy nowhere in sight.

“The man that I found. I know it's not him, but you've got to let me help. We're missing a detail. I just know it, and I think you do too, so just tell me.” Castiel demanded in a firm voice.

The ghost appeared in a flash, steady green eyes locked on Castiel, watching his every movement. “I described the man perfectly. I didn't miss anything.” Dean bitterly insisted.

“Even you know that's not true! The man you described is so vague that it could be anyone! It could even be you!” Castiel pulled out the drawing of the man that Dean had described and waved it around as proof.

“That's not my fault. I can't help what the guy looked like.” Dean rigidly retorted, his posture seeming to stiffen as if her were caught in the act of stealing.

“But you can help how much you tell me, and you're definitely not telling me everything.” Castiel glared Dean down from his spot near the doorway, his blue eyes little more than slits.

“I don't need to tell you everything. I told you what he looks like, so that should be enough. Maybe you're not as good as you think you are.” Dean scoffed, his posture only becoming stiffer.

“Oh I know the extent of my abilities. I just don't know your extent to make up lies, and-” Castiel cut himself off as realization struck him, making his eyes widen to twice their usual size. “You know. You know who killed you. That's why the man you described is so vague. You didn't want me to know who actually killed you! You're just sending me on a wild goose chase!” His anger had been building before, but now it was as if it was overflowing. The metaphorical dam had broken, and it was nearly impossible to patch up.

Dean's eyes drifted to the ground in shame for a moment, and he remained silent for a while, not confirming or denying anything. “I do.” He whispered guiltily. “But I couldn't tell you.” Or I didn't want to. The ghost mentally noted. 

“Why not?!” Castiel angrily demanded, his face scrunched up and his fists balling up. “You thought it was fun to just toy around with me?!”

“Because then you would leave!” Dean shouted desperately, taking Cas by surprise. “I’ve been alone for so long, but when I died, I nearly became like your typical ghost. I could feel my own personality slipping away from me with each passing day. You helped that. You slowed it down. I knew you would leave as soon as you found my killer, and I… just didn't want you to go. I'm selfish. I know.” 

“You… knew this whole time… you knew… but you just wanted me around… for your own purposes…” The words brought a disgusted expression to Castiel's face.

“I'm sorry, okay? I just… really like you.” Dean muttered, not meeting Castiel's gaze out of either guilt or embarrassment.

“Maybe you should have been honest with me then.” Castiel snapped as he turned towards the door. 

“You're running away, huh?” Dean remarked casually. “Just going to leave me here to lose myself?” There was something already lost about Dean's voice. He sounded distant and broken.

Castiel said nothing more as he stormed out the door, guilt beginning to tug at his mind already, begging him to turn around and give the ghost another chance. The ghost had lied to him. Who was to say he wasn't lying about why he needed him around. No matter what Castiel told himself, he could not shake the overshadowing feeling of guilt.

He took off down the street back towards his house, almost certain that he would never return to the murder house or its mysterious ghost.

\-------------------

 

Dean couldn't believe that he actually left. He was alone now, just like before. He did not want to become a mindless ghost bent on revenge, but he knew that would end up being his fate if Castiel never came back.

Castiel had grounded him in some strange way. He felt much more human when he was around, and he knew he was selfish to try and keep that, but humanity felt like so much to give up, and beyond that, he had grown fond of the boy.

He kind of liked the dorky, little teen that had found his way into his house. He definitely thought the boy way attractive. With eyes that blue and a smile that bright, anyone would do the same. That was not even a question. The thing was, Dean felt more than just attraction to the boy. He felt something that was very human. He was longing to see Castiel Novak again, and he mentally cursed himself for it.

That was not supposed to happen. He was not supposed to ever develop any sort of feelings for the boy. That could only end in disaster, and he was fairly certain of it. 

Luckily for Dean, he was a master at burying feelings, and if Castiel came back, he knew that he could just convince him that ghosts did not have feelings because really, no one had ever really stopped to think if Dean Winchester had feelings. They all thought he was just some drop out kid who made sarcastic remarks and never felt anything because he never showed it.

If there was one thing he learned, it was that feelings are an added burden, so if you can't get rid of them, then you should bury them. It would seem like Dean had some burying to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love comments and kudos!


	6. Behind Closed Doors

There was one thing that Castiel was certain of and that was that he was never going to go back to Dean or that house. Certainty could be an almost nonexistent idea, but it could be perceived, and Castiel had a strongly forced perception at that moment. His mind was dancing with thoughts and ideas, but the underlying thought was that Dean had betrayed his trust, and for some reason, he was inexplicably angry. 

Most people were jerks in some form, so it should not have come as a surprise. Underneath the anger, Cas knew there had to be a reason - a reason he did not want to acknowledge. A reason would mean he cared. It would mean that he had grown fond of the ghost boy and even began to trust him because really, people can't make you angry if you don't let them, and you only let them if you care, but that was the last thing Castiel wanted at that moment. He could not care about that lying jerk. Caring meant commitment and trust, which he momentarily felt that Dean did not deserve.

Forget about him. Castiel sighed as he gazed to at his ceiling above his bed, the familiar cracks and leaky spots staring right back at him. He's just trouble.

No matter how hard he tried to forget or how many times he tried to paint Dean as a bad person, he could not shake the lingering thoughts of the ghostly boy with the emerald eyes and the sly grin.

He groaned. This was going to be a long night.

\-------------------

He was right about one thing. That night had felt like the longest night Castiel had ever experienced, and he had been a kid on Christmas Eve at one point, so he was definitely aware of long nights awake in bed with thoughts that traveled against his will.

Green eyes. Coy smile. Sarcastic remarks. Worm out home. Rugged furniture. Lies. Secrets. Games. But they were all just words. The thoughts they entailed were what hurt, but hurt is a funny thing. You can always hide it if you're good. Usually, you don't even have to because no one even stops to notice. They're all too busy with their own thoughts and problems to even notice another person's mental state.

Castiel swung his legs out of bed, humming nonsense tunes to himself to distract from any thoughts. He got dressed in a hurry, his hands flying rapidly to button up his shirt and pull on a sweater vest, his pants being quickly snapped up his legs and the fly done up in a second. Castiel slid on a pair of shoes without even looking before he headed out his door and grabbed a piece of toast and an apple that Gabriel had left him along with his packed lunch before heading out the door. 

Sure, school was not the best. To some people, it was like Satan's personal concoction to torture children, but that was just the majority's opinion. There were the select few, who commonly were labeled as insane, who enjoyed going to school because they wanted to learn. It was not hard for Cas to find which of the two crowds he belonged to. Learning had always fascinated him, and it certainly made him a freak in the eyes of the banal teenagers. Hopefully, it would be just the distraction he needed at the moment.

\-------------- 

Yet again, Castiel was proven drastically wrong. Dean plagued his thoughts for the entire school day, invading his mind during each class. Half of the time, it was not even triggered by anything; Dean was just like a cold that refused to leave his system.

The whole day seemed to drag on, but it was filled with nothing except for thoughts of Dean and the house he inhabited. The trance, however, was momentarily broken as Samandriel edged over towards Castiel, worry etched onto his features.

“Hey, Cas.” He began, his usually soft voice sounding quieter than usual. “I’ve noticed that you've been a bit…” He trailed off as his mind scoured for the word that would fit. “Distant. Are you okay?” He hesitantly asked, his eyes shimmering with concern and sincerity.

Castiel gulped nervously. Samandriel really was only trying to help. He was a nice kid, and all he wanted to do was make sure that people were okay, but that did not change the fact that he could not possibly understand what was bothering him. Castiel gave his lip a quick nip before he answered the question. “I've just been having a rough time lately.” That wasn't a lie, but he knew that Samandriel expected more than that, so he hastily continued. “My brother's sick, and I'm just really worried about him.” 

There. The lie rolled off his tongue without much thought, but he was already beginning to feel bad about it. Guilt was already seeping into his mind for a round of taunting, but he shook it off. That was the last thing he needed at the moment.

The worry only intensified on Samandriel’s face, his eyes widening a fraction as the information hit him like a truck. “I'm so sorry. Is there anything I could do to help? I'm here if you need me.” The young boy immediately responded.

Castiel definitely regretted that lie now. I really dug myself a deep ditch this time. He mentally growled. Never mind, I can just make a rope. “No. It's not that bad. He just has the flu, and I have to go home and take care of him. He'll be better in no time, but he's probably just hungry about now, so I should be getting back.”

Samandriel nodded slowly in response. “Okay. But if you need anything, just ask. I'm glad to help.” He offered Cas a small smile that crept into the corners of his mouth. 

Cas returned the smile, but his was much more fake and forced. Then again, it was a high-school, so that described everything inside the building. “I will. Thank you.” He nodded his head before running out of the school.

Most days, he would have just run to Dean's house, but he could not do that. He could not go back to the lying ghost, but there were unanswered questions, and if there was anything that Cas hated most in the world, it was an unanswered question. 

He mentally cursed himself as he found his feet taking him in the direction of the ghost house because he knew that his curiosity was going to get the best of him, but underneath that he knew that he also felt strangely attached or perhaps indebted to Dean, which only further aggravated him that he was giving in, swallowing his pride whole.

The walk to the house was not long, and the usual scenery of worn out houses and eerie trees that leaned over the road were hardly noticeable to Castiel as his body took him to the place that part of him wanted to go despite his other half's protest.

Castiel stopped when he reached the front door of the ghost house. He closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself again for letting himself go back, but he kept insisting that it was for answers.

That was what he kept telling himself as he marched into the house, confidence oozing off of him in an uncharacteristic manner. He wanted to prove to Dean that he had control of the situation as he demanded answers.

That confidence - along with that entire plan - quickly faded as a vase was thrown right off a nearby table and aimed towards Castiel's head. Cas only barely managed to duck, but his eyes were wide, and his glasses had slipped from their usual place and were now towards the tip of his nose threatening to fall off. He was too shocked to push them back. The last thing he had expected was to be attacked. He had thought that he was the one who was supposed to be mad at Dean, and not the other way around.

He remained in shock for a moment until Dean entered the room, his eyes seeming absent with a new glow that sent shivers down Castiel's spine.

“Dean!” Castiel called desperate to make that look disappear for reasons even he was unsure of.

Dean blinked and his eyes lost the glow, but there was still a strange hollowness to them that seemed relatively new. Perhaps it had been there all along, but to a lesser degree. “Cas?” He sounded clearly confused, but with a scoff, his face went blank. “Why are you here?” He demanded almost mechanically without any force, drive, or feeling.

Cas shook his head. Whatever he had just seen was not something he could just ignore. “What was that?!” He demanded back, his voice reverberating with shock and fear.

“Why did you come back?” Dean ignored his question to continue with his line of inquiry in the same even tone.

“I want answers, Dean!” Cas snapped. “That's why I'm here, so you better start explaining!” He could feel himself beginning to shake. Dean was different, not entirely, but he was changing, and it honestly scared him, and whether or not he wanted to admit it, it worried him.

Dean's gaze flicked from Cas to the shattered vase for a moment before he sighed. “Fine. I'll give you answers.” He'll just leave after this. Dean's mind annoyingly supplied. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything!” Castiel angrily blurted, but he took in a deep breath to steady himself. “Let's start with who killed you.” 

Dean visibly tensed as he cast his eyes towards the wall to stare at nothing in particular. He said nothing for a few minutes, which definitely did not help to lessen Castiel's anger towards him.

Castiel took another deep breath. “You can tell me. You owe it to me, you know.” He spoke in a softer, more delicate tone.

Dean's green eyes flashed gratefully towards Cas for a moment. “John Winchester. I was killed by John Winchester.” Dean reported.

Castiel's eyes went wide, and he rubbed his ears just to make sure he was hearing right. “Your… dad? Your dad killed you?” Castiel was getting worked up, and his voice had almost reached the point of shouting.

“No. Another John Winchester.” Dean sarcastically bit back.

“This isn't a joke, Dean. You…” Castiel trailed off as things began to fall into place. “That's why you didn't want to talk about him. Is he alive out there somewhere? Do you want revenge or something?”

“No. I'm sticking around to smell flowers and make cupcakes.” Dean snapped back, his sarcasm still calm and steady. “Of course I want revenge. He is out there, and he got away with murder.”

“Then why didn't you tell me? We could have locked him up.” Castiel protested.

Dean gritted his teeth before speaking again. “I don't want to be a vengeful spirit. You and your stupid sweater vests made me forget about what I was and allowed me to become almost human again. Vengeance does nasty things to a spirit…”

Castiel's eyes widened again as he put in another missing piece. “You were afraid you'd want to kill him.” He whispered out.

There was no response from Dean, but that just proved it to be true more than anything else could have at that point. “You saw a small piece of it.” Dean continued, ignoring his comment. “I'll lose myself to it.” He emptily stated.

Castiel was silent for a moment. Now he felt guilt for leaving Dean. He wanted so badly just to help him, but he was no longer sure how to do that. “How do I help you?” He groaned out loud.

“Stay.” Dean immediately responded, but immediately regretted. He sounded desperate, and he knew it, and that was the last thing he wanted, but truth be told, he was desperate. His humanity was slipping away, and after he lost that, he really was nothing.

Castiel half smiled at the honest response. “But… what about your revenge? That's why you're here, so you're not going to just forget it.” When he got nothing other than a blank stare from Dean, he decided hesitantly to continue. “We could try getting him arrested. Maybe it will suffice?” He knew it sounded dumb, but it was the only option left.

Dean only absently nodded in response. “Maybe.” He echoed.

The empty look on Dean's face is what drove Cas from that moment on. It was that sheer hopelessness that Dean bore that motivated Cas. He knew that he had a mission, and nothing could pull him away from it. He needed to find John Winchester, and he needed to bring Dean to justice.

\--------------

Cas had gone for the day, but Dean knew perfectly well why. Of course Cas was going to find John, but what happened if jail was not enough? Or worse, what happened if it was, and Dean was at rest by the time Cas came back and then Cas was alone. Of course, the thought did not really occur to Dean in depth because he could not fathom how Cas could possibly have feelings for him.

Whatever happened, he had a strange feeling that it could not end well. There was still so much that Cas didn't know - that he should never of had to know. Dean knew that dragging Cas in was selfish, but the feelings he had developed for him were not. They were pure and human, but they were buried at the moment. They were buried deep in with the other things that Dean refused to acknowledge. Like what was in the locked room, for instance.

Perhaps secrets were a bad omen, but Dean was beyond caring about such things. He had piled up too many secrets. His dark side was too dark. He had locked himself in that room, and there was no key. Perhaps there never was. All Dean knew was that things behind locked doors were there for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
